


there's distance between us

by megyal



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Phone Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-12
Updated: 2007-03-12
Packaged: 2017-10-27 05:18:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megyal/pseuds/megyal





	there's distance between us

Pete waited as his cell phone rang twice and then stopped. He had it in his hand, ready to answer it for the next call; he wasn't quite sure who had developed this code, but he was pretty fucking glad that there was a system in place. He liked systems. This particular one told him it was Patrick calling, because he really couldn't bother with looking at the display. It seemed he was tired of nearly everything.

"What time is it there," Patrick sighed into his ear, the line crackling ever so slightly. "It's not too early, right?"

"It's not," Pete said, sitting up a little in bed. "Yeah, it's like something to seven, but it's just...it's not too early for you." He kicked a little under the quilt, listening to Patrick draw a long inhale and release a noisy breath.

"It's...12:47 over here. After lunch. I had fish and chips for lunch. We did the tourist thing."

"Really."

"Pete. Don't say it like that." Patrick sounded as if he was getting mad and Pete tried to care, but he couldn't drag it up out of himself. He felt like an empty shell, as if they had pumped out too much when they were trying to get out the Ativan. He had left most of himself at the hospital. The rest of the band had left the remains of him behind, when they went to England. Pete didn't know whether to be upset or relieved when he realized that they were _there_ and he was _here_ and he could just lie down and do nothing, even for a little while.

"Sorry," Pete said. "I'm trying."

The silence told Pete to _try harder_.

"Mikey. He doesn't talk onstage, which is really not fun," Patrick said and he sounded as tired as Pete's mind felt. "So I have to be talking. I'm not a talker. Just so you know."

Pete mentally pinched the bridge of his nose, because oh _god_ , really.

"This is something I'm aware of." Pete's voice was dry. "I mean. I got the memo."

"Yeah?" That one word had a sharp edge and Pete felt himself bristle. "Doesn't seem as if you _did_."

"You don't even--" Pete stopped himself. He started again, slowly. "Look. I don't want to do this. Okay? When you get back, we can talk, whatever, but not like this, not on the phone."

"Who says I want to talk to you when I get back, Pete?" Patrick's voice was cool, in bitch mode, but Pete can feel the fear underneath it; because Patrick _knew_ what he was going to say before he cut himself off: _You don't even understand_. The one thing that Pete adored about Patrick was that he didn't make an active effort to understand. He just let Pete be Pete...but maybe, like all things under the sun, there was a time for all things. Even those such as letting your friends know what's really going on.

..and your lovers, don't forget your lovers.

"Hey." Pete felt just little easier on himself. "Hey, when you get back, we can do more than talk, okay? Seriously, I'll make it up to you."

Patrick seemed to relent and ponder this deeply.

"Like how?"

"Oh my god, I don't know!" Pete chuckled, rolling slightly onto his side, curling up like he was wrapping himself into the phone. It must have become slightly muffled, but he continued. "Um. Like, kiss you. I mean. I like that, you know? I like the noise you make when I lick your ear...or how your fingers keep looking for my tats...Patrick, you there?" Because the line had taken on an eerily hushed quality.

"Yeah?" Patrick cleared his throat. "Yeah, I'm. I'm here."

"This feels funny," Pete murmured and Patrick made a snort of disagreement.

"No...ok, yeah. But...new rule, right? Feels funny, keep doing it."

Pete burst out laughing. He hadn't laughed like that in weeks, maybe months and it was a little rusty, but it felt good. He relaxed even more.

"I like feeling the skin on your arm, like pulling my hand down it. I know it totally annoys you when I keep doing that, but I can't stop. It's...it's addictive."

"I know," Patrick said in a small voice. "I think that's how I feel when...um. When...ok, when I'm kissing the back of your knees."

Pete could hear the blush in Patrick's voice.

"Patrick, I have the knobbiest knees ever," Pete deadpanned, and it was Patrick's turn to laugh.

"Agreed. But the backs of them are nice. What's nicer is that you actually let me do that."

"Dude, my next tattoos are gonna be like a stamp on the backs of my knees: PMS Territory, Only."

Patrick made that soft humming laugh that buzzed through Pete's mind. He wanted to snuggle up to the sound.

"I want to lick you," he said suddenly, closing his eyes and reveling in the thought. "Sometimes you taste like honey, I don't even know what soap you use to make that happen, but it drives me batshit. It makes me want to _do_ things."

"Wow. I did not know this," Patrick murmured. "I guess it's the same thing with that crazy chain of thorns around your neck. Anytime I see it, I need to bite it. Or something."

"God." Pete felt rueful. "You never miss the water, right?"

Patrick gave a slightly snide laugh.

"I have my own room," Patrick said abruptly. "Joe is sharing with Mikey. And Andy got his own room too, which, you know, is cool and all."

"Yeah," Pete replied, feeling himself start to float. He wanted to drift away. Face-down in water. In space without a suit. Anywhere. Everywhere.

"...and you know we'd be in the same room, if you were here. But you're not."

Pete gritted his teeth, crashing back down.

Before he could form his thoughts into something scathing, Patrick said, in that blunt way he had at times: "Ok. I'm getting naked."

Every process in Pete's mind halted at that simple statement, even as rustling noises filled the earpiece and Patrick gave a sigh. "Um. What?"

"I'm naked. In bed." Patrick's voice held a thread of amusement. "Naked, you know? That's where you take off all your clothes--"

"Fuck off," Pete said. "Why are you now naked in bed?"

"Isn't that how you usually like it?"

Wow. Shit. That _was_ the way he liked it. He liked the feeling of pale smooth skin, of hot breath and cold fingers. He liked to wear Patrick, the way someone would wear a favourite pair of jeans, because it fit exactly right and made everything look that much better.

"And that thing you bought for me? As a joke, the Christmas gift, remember? It's...well. I have it _here_."

Pete blinked at the folds of the bed-covers, mountains at this angle.

"It wasn't a joke. I mean, I laughed when you opened it, but I laugh over everything even when I don't mean it and dude. Don't tell me you have the vibrator over there with you now." Pete was breathless and Patrick chuckled.

"I have the vibrator over here with me now," he said with mock solemnity and Pete could tell the exact moment the teasing note left Patrick's voice. "And...I. I want you to tell me what I should do with it."

Pete closed his eyes. Breathed; and again.

"Pete?" Patrick asked, a little worriedly. "You there? If you don't want to do this, it's fine, you know. I can just call back later--"

"Where are your hands?" Pete cut in softly. "No, like, tell me as much as you can. I want to see you."

He could hear a soft shuffling sound and he simply waited.

Patrick's voice was low. "The bed is huge. And soft. I'm in the middle of it and there's like a mountain of pillows. I'm sitting back against them."

"And the vibrator?"

"Beside me." Patrick breathed. "With the lube."

Pete built up the image in his mind, filling in the cool pale colour of Patrick's skin as he spoke.

"The sheets are dark-blue and they're silky. And the curtains match. It must be pretty bright outside, but in here is really dark. I have the bedside light on."

Pete smiled a little, sliding a hand down underneath his quilt and onto his boxers.

"You're hard already," Patrick said, so sure and so shy at the same time. "Aren't you?"

"Goddamit, yes," Pete gasped. "Jesus."

"It's my hand," Patrick said, almost gently, and Pete thought he was too much of a good student. Or Pete was an excellent teacher, because _damn_. "It's...it's my mouth. It's my tongue on you. I want to do so much--"

"You are--"

"--but you're _not here_ and I hate you so much for that." Pete squeezed himself extra-hard at that, as if in punishment, hand slicking up and catching clear fluid at the head of his cock, twisting back down. Patrick's voice took on a sulky, accusatory note. "You should be here."

Pete bit down on the inside of his cheek and stopped. His dick throbbed in his hand, waiting, wanting.

"I'm there," he tried to say, but it came out in a strangled croak. Patrick heaved another sigh, and the sound of his resigned breath filled Pete's mind. He wasn't too sure where he got it from, but Pete drew on some reserve of strength and hardened his voice. "Fuck you, I'm there. I'm there, so take up the lube."

"What?" Patrick's voice strove for indignation, but they both knew that this was what really drove Patrick up the wall. Pete could almost imagine him running his the tip of his tongue over his top lip, a rapid action that never failed to destroy Pete.

"I said. Take it up. Put some on your fingers."

"Pete--"

"Now."

Patrick actually _moaned_ at this, a trembling tenor note that set itself at the crown of Pete's head and melted down his body, sparking nerve-endings and causing his cock to complain within his fist.

"You have to hurry, Patrick," Pete warned. Patrick made a small humming sound in diminuendo, a sharp gasp at the end of that and all Pete had to do was remember where his own fingers had to be to coax that sound from Patrick: stroking gently, petting and preening, slipping one finger in just so, right _there_ at the first knuckle--

"Right there," Patrick breathed, the receiver in the phone picking up the strong exhalation and gusting it into Pete's ear. "At the first knuckle."

Pete wanted to say _baby, honey, sweetheart_ , but those were words that Patrick really hated to hear, so all he said was, "Relax," and Patrick made that low purr in the back of his throat.

There was a loaded pause, held breaths and soft slipping-sliding sounds. Patrick tore at him gently with, "I wish this thing was you."

Pete shivered. He was so very close now, right at the edge of everything, floating and falling and living and hoping not to die.

"Oh." Patrick's voice was tilting into breathlessness, strange to hear in a person with such great lung capacity. "I don't want to put it all the way in. It feels good right there."

There was another moan, but Pete wasn't sure if it was himself or Patrick. He moved his hand again; slow-now-faster, up-and-down, settling with the thought that the sound might have been them both. It had to be. Patrick was giving voice to regular throaty gasps.

"Patrick," Pete said, hips rolling up. "I want. Please...I can't--"

"Just," gasped Patrick. " _Please_. Tell me."

"Deeper," Pete spat, wondering at his coherency. "Turn...turn it on."

Another heady pause.

And then, " _Fuck_." Patrick was shuddering. Pete could feel it, across miles and hours and from the sharp hitched groans, stuttering along the phone-connection, he could tell that Patrick was as close as he was. He wasn't quite sure what he was saying, but he was saying _something_ , go just a little deeper, Patrick, tilt it up just a little; Patrick was _whimpering_ , please, _please_ , let him...Pete, let him come.

"You're mine," Pete muttered without knowing that he did and Patrick's cry was sharp and caught up on high, a gasp in upper C, shoving Pete over his own edge.

"Holy...oh, _shit_ ," Pete groaned as soon as his mind reassembled. " _Patrick_."

"Hmmmm. Wait...give me a second." He could hear Patrick shifting around, still breathing hard. "Pete. I'm...ok, thanks."

"What?!" Pete wiped his hand on his boxers, wrinkling his nose a little. Honestly, it was cute that Patrick sounded so shy. He was probably biting his bottom lip now. "Dude, get your ass home. Like soon. Thank me in _person_ , bitch."

"Whatever," Patrick said, but he was laughing and Pete thought that everything was pretty much alright.


End file.
